The Elder Scrolls: Fount of Freedom
by WarWizard1994
Summary: After the Dragon Crisis, many relief projects are launched in the name of Skyrim's recovery. When a wizard disappears during one of these relief projects, his daughter uncovers a hidden conspiracy poised to radically change Skyrim. The key to Skyrim's fate lies with the Dragonborn, but he mysteriously vanished years ago without a trace . . .


**Author's note:**_ This story was an arduous task; while I ran the idea for it through my mind months earlier, actually writing it was surprisingly difficult. It is for this reason that I would like to thank __**Whisper292**__ for her help. Though I sought aid from other beta readers, she proved to be the most helpful. _

_Despite the struggle, I enjoyed every minute of writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoy reading it equally as much. _

* * *

**Chapter One: Into the Deep**

Blackreach was an eerie, perilous place.

The giant fungi and their airborne spores wreathed the immense underground cavern in a ghostly blue haze which easily obscured all but the first few meters of one's vision; the geode veins embedded within the rock reinforced the azure fog with their own radiant auras. The haunting hum of ancient Dwemer technologies rang throughout the cavern like the echo of a lost and forgotten age—an age of technological prowess and dominion over nature.

It was common knowledge that the Dwemer were the most advanced civilization in Tamriel and perhaps, as some speculated, even on Nirn. Their culture prospered all over northern Tamriel from eastern Morrowind all the way to western Hammerfell and flourished so well that, even thousands of years after their disappearance, the fruits of their reason and engineering genius still proudly flaunted their austere, logical glory over the chaotic anarchy of the surrounding nature.

Yet now, these specters of a bygone society loomed over Blackreach as guardians; the stone masonry gazed down upon the wildlife from all corners of the cavern while steam-powered machines combed the empty halls coldly, like mindless mechanical undead. Clashing with these automatons, the primitive Falmer lurked in the shadows for new quarry. Indeed, Blackreach was a dangerous place—the mere mention of its name alone horrified most adventurers.

Wynandil was not most adventurers.

Standing roughly over two meters tall, the Altmer hovered over a comfortable campfire, watching the fire's acrobatic dance through his Dwemer spectacles as he tried his hardest to keep warm. Despite the magic insulation enchantment he had woven into his wizard robes beforehand, Wynandil still shivered from the biting cold climate of Blackreach, which was merely an extension of the deep freeze of snow-covered Skyrim.

Over the span of several years, Wynandil and Calcelmo had collaborated together to study Dwemer technology in an effort to better understand the dormant machines and engineering systems embedded into Markarth. The idea behind the research was to eventually harness said technologies to improve Markarth's living conditions and economic standing in all of Skyrim as well as increase the jarl's political power. Such a project was ambitious, even for the two Altmer.

Now, reported to hide in the depths of the infamous Blackreach, lurked some of the vast quantities of Dwemer knowledge—artifacts, engineering schematics, and weapons that could be examined and reverse engineered to grant the two Altmer insight into realizing their project's quota—just waiting to be found. Wynandil clutched the amulet of Julianos dangling from his neck in anticipation of the knowledge he would glean from his foray in the giant cavern.

Accompanying him in the makeshift camp was a squad of four Stormriders—a new but highly disciplined mercenary outfit seeking to establish themselves as a reputable fighters' guild. Leading the squad was Hulgar the Valiant, a Nord reaching about one-and-three-fifths of a meter in height, his muscular frame encased in Nordic steel armor. His azure eyes focused, Hulgar set about restocking his supplies in preparation for the journey ahead.

To Wynandil's right sat Avares Omoril, a Dunmer spellsword at equal height to Hulgar. The young Dunmer had a voluptuous figure and no qualms about showing it—what little furs and leathers she wore succeeded only in accentuating her smooth, gray flesh and offered scant protection against potential Falmer attacks, let alone the caustic cold air. _How on Nirn is she not freezing?_ Wynandil thought to himself with a shiver.

"Any idea where we're supposed to go?" said Camille, a Breton mage roughly half his height, her brown eyes and thin, mousy frame regarding Wynandil shyly.

"We are currently twenty-one kilometers northeast of the Silent City," Wynandil replied, recounting his memory of the map's layout and scaling. "We will continue our search there."

"The Silent City! But. . . but that place is crawling with countless Falmer," Camille stammered in fear.

"And just what have we been fighting for the past few weeks?" Avares chimed in, her red eyes and sultry voice regarding Camille confidently. "Really, if we could fend them off for this long, we could surely take on more. And we've already looked through the outskirts of Blackreach. The only place left now is the Silent City."

"And this one thinks we might find treasure there too," J'Rakha said, the Khajiit's face and glazed yellow eyes wearing a toothy grin at the thought.

"You guys are missing the point," Camille pleaded. "We've only been fighting small bands of Falmer. Yet the city contains an entire army of those monsters. Worse, there are rumors that they use captured slaves as guards. And you think we're just going to walk on in there, grab whatever Dwemer contraptions we can find, and leave—all without any trouble from such a menace!"

"We are not leaving until we comb _every_ area of this underground cavern," Wynandil enunciated sternly.

"Okay then, mister all-knowing wizard. Explain to me how we're going to survive the suicide mission you're stubbornly bent on pursuing!"

"We will deal with that dilemma when we get there," Wynandil said, quickly losing his patience. "For now, we must focus on the journey there. This expedition is too vital for us to stop now."

Camille stared at him like he was mad. "Oh really. And why, pray tell, should I care about your stupid little project? What's so important about it that we need to die for it? Why must we search that place? Why not another?" Head cast downward, she added weakly, "Who is the Dragonborn?"

That last question brought Wynandil to the end of his indulgence. He grabbed Camille by her robes and sneered dangerously close to her face. "Let me make two things clear. One, _never_ utter that question again. Two, Calcelmo and I have invested too much time and money to allow something as simple as an insufficient search to ruin our project's results."

He glared at her as he continued. "Also, don't forget that Jarl Igmund employed our services for this project, and since Calcelmo hired all of you as my escort party, you too are a part of this project; woe beholds anyone who disappoints the jarl. Think about that the next time you tremble in fear of primitive savages." He finally let go of Aveline, ending his tirade.

"Wizard's got a point," Hulgar said soberly, nodding his head toward the Altmer, now fidgeting with the amulet of Zenithar dangling next to the one of Julianos around his neck. "As insane as it sounds, we have no choice but to go to the Silent City. We've cleared every nook and cranny of this place except that ruin."

"Look at it this way," Avares said soothingly. "The sooner we clear that city, the sooner we get home. Azura knows I can't wait to get this job done."

"_Right_," J'Rakha sneered suggestively, making lewd gestures as he continued. "With the way you and Hulgar are with each other, this one thinks you'll be making Dibella proud the first minute we get back."

With an indignant grimace, Avares motioned to slap the Khajiit, but Hulgar stayed her hand before the blow connected, a disgusted scowl on his face.

"So it's settled then," Hulgar said. "In a few hours, we head for the Silent City. I suggest everyone check their stock and make any other preparations needed. I suspect we'll be walking through Oblivion itself once there."

**oOo**

After much preparation, the expedition started its journey toward the Silent City. When the expedition party wasn't fending off Falmer or Dwemer automatons, Wynandil tasked himself with reviewing his notes and rechecking the catalogue of Dwemer artifacts to make triply sure every bit of his findings was recorded. While he didn't show it outwardly toward his escort, he was rather confused that he found little of note: only a handful of schematics for improved Dwemer armor, a couple of exquisite crossbows, and some scrap metal. Given that he was investigating a massive Dwemer ruin set in an even more massive underground cavern, Wynandil reasoned that he should have found more than he currently had catalogued.

He hoped he could find the source of the strange results—maybe he overlooked a small shadow concealing some priceless artifact or lost something along the way, but his methodical mindset combined with his catalogue contradicted such explanations. A more likely hypothesis was that J'Rakha was holding out on some valuable technologies; after all, he was a kleptomaniac, and his jet-black fur allowed him to bleed into the darkness like a shadow. Yet J'Rakha wasn't a big Khajiit—his wiry frame couldn't carry anything heavier than a few Dwemer cogs throughout the party's travels. Whatever the case, Wynandil was disturbed by this discrepancy. _There should be more to find down here_, he thought to himself. _It is almost as if Blackreach was picked clean beforehand. Yet everyone is too afraid to set foot in here. Who would dare to clean this cavern out?_

Looking up from his notebook, Wynandil peered up at the imposing walls of the Silent City, noting the orderly and cogent façade it shared with its sibling structures; from the seamless stonemasonry of the city to the vines of Dwemer steam pipes stretching around its walls, the Silent City still maintained some of the systematic, striking design it had before. Yet now the logic and mathematical harmony added to the already empty, hollow, and foreboding atmosphere the ruin emitted; the local flora had begun to grow over patches of the masonry like gangrenous sores as dust and grime coated the machinery and steam pipes, marring their rational beauty. Some of the city's more fragile components, like the wall-mounted fresco paintings, were rotting away from thousands of years of neglect. The Silent City was but an echo of its former glory.

Hulgar suddenly raised a fist telling the expedition party to stop and regroup. "All right, listen up. Now that we've made it, we'll need to be more cautious." He scanned his sober stare over the party. "First off, we're not going to be like the Companions and just charge on in there like brainless milk-drinkers. Instead, what we're going to do is infiltrate the city." He then turned to the Khajiit. "J'Rakha, you can sneak through the shadows better than any of us. You will scout on ahead and report anything you can about the enemy."

J'Rakha nodded his assent before venturing off into the imposing city.

Hulgar addressed Avares as he continued. "I want you to watch the wizard's back while we set foot in the city. I'll help you, but we might get split up, and we can't afford to botch the job if that happens—least of all in this nightmare of a ruin."

"Aye," Avares replied, her solemn eyes belying her apprehension underneath her red hair.

"Camille, you of all people should know about how deadly Falmer spellcasters can be. If we run into them, I want you to cast whatever hexes, sigils, and barriers you can to combat any foul curses and spells they will no doubt inflict upon us," Hulgar commanded.

Camille nodded, trepidation showing in her face.

"Now, we're all going to stick together and sneak our way into this Divines-forsaken ruin. Use any potions, spells, or other tricks up your sleeve if you need help doing this." Hulgar waved his hand forward. "Follow me, and watch your step."

As the group infiltrated into the city with the aid of potions and magic, Wynandil observed the vast expanse of streets, walkways, parapets, and alleyways diverging and intersecting with one another, forming a labyrinth molded in accordance with an intricate, complex mathematical master plan. To the side of each street stood enormous steam pumps and pistons thrusting cyclically in harmonious tandem with one another. Yet the entropy witnessed outside the city walls ran rampant inside the city as well; the same floral growths, dust-coatings, and decaying machinery were present throughout the ruin. In addition to all of this, some of the finer steam pipes were corroded with bitter brown rust.

Whether in the streets, up above in the walkways and parapets, or hidden within the alleyways, there was never a shortage of Falmer, chaurus, and slaves to sneak past despite J'Rakha's reconnaissance work. Between the Falmer's heightened auditory senses and their slaves' vision, it was a miracle the group wasn't caught and forced to fight through the streets—especially during the numerous close calls that threatened to give the group away.

As they neared the heart of the city, the number of Falmer patrols surprisingly decreased until there were only a few groups of two or three slaves of various races, allowing the party to eliminate a few of the most troublesome pests if they were stealthy enough and J'Rakha hadn't taken them out already. The party still needed to exercise extreme caution through the maze of passageways though, so as not to attract unwanted attention and therefore certain death. Hulgar slowed his crawl to a standstill as he listened in to noises emanating from a fork in the street up ahead.

"Stop. I hear something."

As the expedition party complied, Wynandil noticed something scurrying around in the shadows ahead. As the source of the noises drew closer, he could make out the silhouette of a slave, hunched forward in a grotesque posture. Given its short, stocky build, Wynandil concluded that the slave was a Breton.

Before he could deduce anything further, a loud screech resounded throughout the street. Quickly turning on his heels, Wynandil spotted the source of the screech—a Bosmeri slave roosting atop the balcony of a Dwemer structure. J'Rakha skillfully hurled a throwing knife at the slave, drawing a sickly yellow-green pus as it embedded itself in the wretch's sore-ridden throat, but the damage was already done—the Breton slave up ahead heard the commotion, alerted its masters, and started rushing at the party, now at a disadvantage in the narrow street.

"Gods damn it," Hulgar sighed. "Run!"

Immediately, the party followed Hulgar into the other path down the fork, though they did not find a stratagem to aid them in their fight. Instead, they saw something that nothing could prepare them for.

The party rushed headlong into the Silent City forum, a vast circle of Dwemer towers joined together by thick walls. Immediately ahead of the party loomed a high balcony, no doubt where Dwemer orators had given speeches before their disappearance. Floating above that hovered a giant orb, glowing a gilded radiant light that shone on the entirety of the forum. The golden light also revealed the horde of Falmer arranged in a circle central to the space and the slaves garrisoned in the parapets. As the Falmer patrol behind the party closed in, Hulgar turned frantically toward his squad, panic in his face.

"Take cover!"

Quickly, the party rushed to the closest Dwemer furnishings, thick walls, or anything else protective they could find. Once entrenched in their cover, the party began their counterattack. Camille wove protective sigils in the air to counter the hexes thrown by the spellcasters while Wynandil and Avares hurled volleys of fireballs at incoming slaves in between slashing warriors. J'Rakha somehow managed to perch himself atop a Dwemer pipe, chucking firebombs and throwing knives at the horde of Falmer and their servants as Hulgar thrashed at the enemy, bashing a spellsword to death with his spiked shield.

While Wynandil and the squad of Stormriders were able to slaughter dozens of the brazen creatures, twenty more Falmer and slaves replaced each individual among their fallen; this trend continued despite help from the flame atronachs summoned by Avares and Camille. _We cannot hold out forever_, Wynandil confessed to himself.

Before Wynandil could shudder at the thought, Hulgar hacked his way toward him, a smirk on his face.

"Cover me, wizard. I have an idea."

Curious, Wynandil complied, following Hulgar as he cut through droves of sore-ridden wretches. Out of nowhere, a slave launched itself at Wynandil, gripping his robes as it spewed a foul-smelling black mixture of bile and offal in his face.

"_Ugh_." Wynandil recoiled, throwing the leprous servant off of him—and onto Hulgar's spiked shield.

"You okay, wizard?"

"I am." Wynandil wiped the rotten sludge off of his face before continuing. "Now let us see this idea of yours."

Continuing, Wynandil trailed Hulgar toward the center of the forum. . . directly underneath the floating orb.

Already connecting the dots in his mind, Wynandil realized what Hulgar intended to do.

Hulgar secured his footing, breathed deeply, and Shouted.

"_Fus_!"

The orb rang loudly like a bell and released a brilliant flash of light when the Shout hit, disorienting and sowing chaos among the forum. When Wynandil regained his faculties, he saw tides of Falmer keeled over and screaming in agony, ears bleeding. The slaves merely floundered about aimlessly like soulless zombies, blinded and deafened from the orb's blast. Eyebrow raised, Wynandil turned to Hulgar.

"You must teach me how to do that next time you get a chance."

Hulgar chuckled. "If you walk the seven thousand steps to High Hrothgar, the Greybeards can teach you instead. They would do better than me; that's for sure."

Turning toward the rest of his squad, Hulgar shouted, "Fall in!"

Having turned the tables on the horde, Hulgar led his squad on the counteroffensive, cleaving through the crippled sea of Falmer and their slaves alongside Avares while Wynandil joined Camille in suppressing the magical attacks of the few spellcasters still in fighting shape.

During the wholesale slaughter, Wynandil thought he heard a sound in the distance, like a sabre cat howling menacingly. _Now that is odd_, he thought; sabre cats aren't found in Blackreach. He didn't have time to ponder the anomaly any further, not with the slaves beginning to recover from their debilitation.

"I can't believe it," Camille chanted in hopeful glee between spells. "We've actually got a chance!" Her sudden change in demeanor was a far cry from her somber mood earlier.

"Don't be arrogant," Wynandil chided. "Just keep casting spells and the enemy will fall soon enough." _Acting foolish will guarantee you a quick death_, he added mentally.

He then turned to Hulgar and Avares. "How are you two faring?"

Both of them regarded him confidently while slashing the enemy. "We're still hanging on here. And J'Rakha left to find a way to keep the Falmer from regrouping, so we should finish this scum off soon."

Just then, Wynandil heard that noise again, though this time it thundered across all off the Silent City much more deeply. It wasn't long after he heard that roar again when a shadow swept across the forum, raining liquid fire upon a large swathe of the Falmer horde.

"What in Oblivion is _that!_" Camille shrieked in horror.

"It can't be," Hulgar whispered, utterly demoralized. "It's a—"

The shadow swooped down toward the expedition party, revealing itself as it landed a several meters in front of Hulgar. Adorned with red scales, the winged creature stared intently at Hulgar with its raptor-like gaze as it wagged its lithe tail excitedly. Then it did something that took Wynandil completely by surprise: it growled something at the party—an unintelligible something, that was certain, but it still acknowledged them all the same—as though it were sentient.

"_Dragon_!"

Just then, the dragon reeled back and lunged forward, gripping Hulgar in its gruesome maw.

"_Hulgar!_" Avares screamed, watching the beast rend Hulgar into shreds before eating him alive.

The group then retreated out through the forum entrance into the Silent City with Wynandil trailing behind them; before he caught up with them, however, the winged behemoth belched a giant ball of bloody fire and bits of offal toward the entrance, sending the archway crashing down to the ground—cutting off Wynandil's escape.

Realizing he was trapped, Wynandil slowly turned toward the creature and stared it straight in its reptilian eyes, sword raised. _Irinde, my love, _he thought to himself, his amulet of Zenithar pressed to his lips_. I am coming._


End file.
